


Elevator Love Story

by fluffybooks



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25531810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffybooks/pseuds/fluffybooks
Summary: Jaide Trevelyan hated Garrett Hawke's guts. It's too bad, since he has a huge crush on her and they were stuck hundreds of feet in the air in a tiny elevator with no rescue in sight.
Relationships: Hawke/Trevelyan, Male Hawke/Female Inquisitor, Male Hawke/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 3





	Elevator Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story in my head for years and I was finally able to smash enough words together to form some semblance of a story. Its a Modern AU of my story Undaunted (which is still in the works) that is centered around a few of my Dragon Age OCs, but focused on Garrett Hawke and Jaide Trevelyan. Hope to continue the keyboard smashing throughout the week to post another chapter soon.

She was remarkably calm for a woman who was trapped hundreds of feet in the air with a man she couldn’t stand. She hadn’t reacted at all, not when he had gotten on the elevator with her. Not when the doors shut and the elevator gave a slight lurch as it began its descent. Not when the lights snapped off and the elevator came to a lurching halt, sending the both of them to their knees. No hysterics or panic. Just same old calm, cool, infuriatingly polite Jaide Trevelyan.

Even now, as they sat there after a call to the front desk of the building; a front desk that didn’t even know that there were still people here this late on a Friday, a front desk that wasn’t even in the building anymore and had forwarded the phones to an afterhours line, and even with no response on the elevator’s phone or the emergency call button, no matter how many times he pressed the button, she was sitting with her legs neatly crossed in front of her as she played a game of Wicked Grace on her phone.

As it was, Garrett Hawke was quite certain that it was he who was going to be losing it. He could feel the curls of panic in his chest, digging deeper and deeper with every passing moment. His palms were sweating and his early lunch was threatening to revisit the land of the living with every shudder and shake of the small metal box he was currently trapped in. He was going to throw up in front of Jaide, a woman who hated him, and then he was going to die with Jaide, who still most likely hated him. More so if he did end up throwing up, considering the small space they were trapped in.  
"Maker's breath." He muttered, closing his eyes tight as the emergency lights began to flash. There was an unnerving silence in this tiny prison, empty whispers and creaks and groans that wasn't entirely sure wasn't just his imagination.

_Don't panic._ He told himself, though it was quite unnecessary, as his breathing began to quicken and that damned turkey sandwich began its slow ascent up his esophagus. He tried to practice those breathing techniques Isabela had drunkenly tried to teach him one night while she was visiting his sister, Tessa. He had been quite certain she was just bullshitting; it didn't help that Tessa had been laughing with every exaggerated deep breath her girlfriend had made, but right now, the ‘deep, calming breaths’ thing seemed a whole lot better that than the alternatives.  
Dying or throwing up on his fellow occupant. Most likely both. Maker.

Garrett has never liked heights. From the time he was seven years old and Tessa had convinced him to climb a tree for the ball she had gotten stuck on the highest bloody branch and he had fallen and broken his arm in two places, Garrett got dizzy on escalators. He usually took the stairs -- _Maker, why didn't he take the fucking stairs_ \-- but he had been in such a hurry to get back to his desk so he could clock out for the day that he had sucked it up. Stupid meeting that had gone an hour over. Even the bigwigs at the company had left for the day, their offices dark and empty as he had walked past them to the stairs.

And maybe he had seen Jaide get into the elevator before he had gone into the stairwell. And maybe he made a split-second decision to get into with her. Maybe he told himself it was because he’d get to his desk quicker, which meant he could sign-out sooner. He’d be at the Hanged Man with his friends in no time, just as long as he sucked it up and got into the blasted elevator.

He could admit to himself that he had a little crush on her. Alright, a big crush. Garrett couldn’t decide if that made him pathetic or a masochist, as he had it on good authority his presence alone irritated her, and Maker knows he made things worse just by opening his mouth. He tried not to, most of the time, but there were moments when a joke would present itself and what person would he be to let those slip?

Probably a person who would be able to talk to Jaide for more than five seconds without irritating her.

The elevator shook slightly as a horrible wrenching sound filled the small space. It sounded like metal scraping against metal and Garrett could feel it reverberating through him, setting his teeth on edge. He waited, breathlessly for the drop, for the endless falling, smashing metal and breaking bones.

He was going to die in a damned elevator.

Garrett pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, pressings if he could push the fear away, maybe if he pushed hard enough, he'd pass out and then he could stay blissfully unaware as this tiny hell box plunged them deep in to the bowels of death and damnation and-- 

The hand on his arm was gentle, but firm and pulled him away from his panic with a choked sound. He looked down at the slender hand, fingers graceful, nails painted a sharp red almost in defiance to the Dress Code regulations at Inquisition Inc. She had rings on her pointer and thumb, thin gold bands that glinted and gleamed in the flashing lights. Garrett followed the arm, over a crisp white shirt that contrasted nicely with her tanned skin – he couldn't help but notice the small tattoo on her wrist, some roman numerals it looked like, over a dark braid thrown carelessly over her shoulder to a pair of quiet gray eyes. 

"Are you alright?" She asked. Garrett opened his mouth to say what, he didn't know. Sure! I'm fine? Being trapped in a death closet hundreds of feet in the air. With nothing between them and certain death but screams and pain and misery and-- 

"Please don't faint." 

"What?" He snapped back to reality and watched in gross fascination as a dimple flashed on her face. 

"You went pale," she explained. Her hand was still on his arm. He looked back down at her hand and then up at her face. She was smiling. He couldn't stop looking at her smile. He liked her smile. Why was he so focused on that? Can panic do that to you? Maybe because he never really saw her smile, not a real smile anyways. Sure, she gave him the sarcastic twist of lips that could possibly pass for a strained smile every now and then. His fault really, but the change was interesting enough to breach the panic and he dropped his hands from his face and tried to remember that he had some dignity somewhere and that he knew words other than 'Oh, shit' and 'We're going to die'.

Garrett sucked in a breath and prayed desperately that his voice wouldn’t shake. “I am pale, that’s a normal look for me. Red hair, blue eyes, unnaturally pale skin. Curse of the ginger and what not.”

Jaide rolled her eyes. “Right, you always look like all the blood had been drained from your body.” She gave him one more look over and dropped her hand, though she was still standing close to him, as if she’d catch him if he fell. And he had no doubt in his mind she would. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’ve... been better.” He replied, tying not to show her just how close he was to losing it.

“Heights or small spaces?”

“What?” He asked, confused by the segue.

“Are you afraid of heights or small spaces?” The question wasn’t asked gleefully or maliciously. No, Jaide Trevelyan was looking at him with something quite close to concern. And sincerity. He didn’t which one surprised him more.

Garrett shuddered at the mention of heights and the reminder just how high in the air he was dangling. _Maker, don't throw up on her._ "Heights." Even the word was distasteful.

“Alright, can I do anything to help?”

“Get me off this elevator? Kill me and put me out of my misery?” Garrett considered his words for a moment. “Really, at this point I’m fine with either option.”

Jaide laughed, and the sound was so foreign to him that for a moment, a brief, wonderous moment he forgot about the situation he was in and he just basked in the sound. “Killing you would be too much of a pain to explain to everyone, including your sister, so looks like I’m going to have to find a way for us off this elevator.”

“Tessa would appreciate the not killing her favorite brother option,” He agreed as Jaide stepped away. “I think so, anyways.” Grinning at him, she crouched down for a minute and rummaged through her bag.

She pulled out her phone and unlocked it with a swipe of her finger. “I’m going to call the front desk again, maybe they’ll have some new information for us. Hello, yes, Ms. Harding, this is Jaide Trevelyan with Garrett Hawke. We are--. Okay, that’s... not great. When do you think you’ll hear something?” She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t a good sign. “Please call this number when you--. Yes, I know. Thank you, Lace.” If she had a flip phone, Garrett was sure she would have slammed it closed in irritation. Since she had a smart phone, she just stabbed the hang up button with a huff.

Garrett stayed silent as she tossed her phone back into her bag, but with every second she kept silent the words bubbled more and more until he couldn't stand it anymore. “Good news, then?” When Jaide gave him a sympathetic shake of her head, he added, “Lie if you must.”

“Garrett, as of right now the entire city is without power. There is a team heading back now to assess the situation here, but they aren’t sure when they’ll be able to get the elevators working again.”

Jaide was looking at him now, waiting for a response. Garrett wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do in this moment. Crying seemed overdramatic, screaming would only stress him out more, he could laugh? Laughing seemed better than slamming his head into the wall repeatedly. He looked at the wall. He was pretty sure his head wouldn't break the mirror.

Then again, he did have an abnormally hard head, or so he had heard from a distressing amount of people. “The whole city? How is that even possible? How do we not have backup generators or a rescue team on speed dial? Why did I get on this stupid thing?” He sounded panicky. Which was good, because he felt as if his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest via his sphincter.

Jaide moved closer to him, her hands stayed by her side-- why did he feel disappointed at that? -- but she was close enough that he could smell her, a subtle clean scent that was intoxicating. “Garrett, I’m here, I’m right here with you. We will figure this out, I promise.”

He was so taken aback that he was at a loss of words. Which never happened to him. He was always able to find words, right or wrong, but right now, facing Jaide and really seeing her for the first time, he felt something in him shift.

Shit, and she was looking at him for some sort of response while he had an out of body experience.

Garrett opened his mouth to say something, anything, when the elevator groaned and dropped. It was short fall, not even a full foot, but the quick stop had both of them crashing to the floor. Her bag bounced with the movement and sent her things flying across the elevator. They landed in a pile, Jaide on top of him, which in normal situations would be fairly more exciting, but right now, her elbow was digging into his side, he was pretty sure he was laying on what felt like a sunglass case, and her knee was dangerously close to parts of him that would prefer not to be pulverized.

“Jaide,” he gritted out when she shifted above him, “if you move another inch, you are going to squish things that shouldn’t be squished.”

“Sorry,” Jaide blushed, but moved her knee away from the danger zone and with an awkward push, extricated herself from him. After she had untangled herself, she shifted so she could lean against the mirrored wall and started to pick up the items that had been flung out of her bag that were within her reach. “Honestly, what the fuck is going on?”

Garrett had sat up as well and since Jaide had looked someone comfortable, he had copied her movement and was scooting back to lean against the wall opposite of Jaide. He picked up the few items of hers that had landed near his position and was about to pass them to her when her curse cut through the fog in his brain. He looked up in surprise. He didn’t know such a prim and proper mouth could utter a word like that. She had said it the right way too, with the proper emphasizes and everything. He gaped at her, mouth open and everything. Jaide slid a glance over to him, the flush on her checks apparent in the dimness of the elevator.  


"Sorry," She shrugged her shoulders as she crossed her legs under her. "I feel like this is a situation that warrants such language.”

"Oh, don't apologize,” Garrett tossed her the damned sunglass case that had imprinted itself on his back and a compact and couldn’t help but feel a thrill when she caught them easily -- She would be a great addition to the flag football team --“I feel like nothing makes a dangerous situation better than better than a good sprinkling of 'fucks'."

His mind caught up to his mouth just as her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. The implication of his words and the unintentional insinuation hit him as he began to backpedal furiously. "That's not what I-- hah. I didn't mean us-- Please don’t kill me." He begged, his face dropping to his hands.

There was a moment of complete silence, where not even the elevator dared to make a sound. He didn’t dare look at her, he preferred not to stare death straight in the eyes. His words hung between them, salacious and practically dripping with insinuation and Maker save him now, she was going to kill him. If this elevator crashing to the ground below didn't end his pathetic life, then surely this woman, proper and prim and laughing-- Wait.

"Laughing," Garrett said stupidly, mind still blank from embarrassment and trying desperately to figure out if she was laughing because she was pulling a knife out and was gleefully about to stab him repeatedly or if she honest was laughing. "You’re laughing. That’s good, right? You’re not going to hit me or anything, right? I didn't mean to imply--"

"Maker," she gasped lurching over to wrap her hands around her middle. "Maker's breath. Garrett, your face-- I can't--" She began laughing even harder, the sound bright and full and Garret couldn't help but smile, though she was laughing at his expense.

"I'm not usually so pathetic." He told her.

The look she gave him, the 'yeah, right' had him grinning, his fear and embarrassment and rollercoaster of emotions lost in those serious gray eyes. "What can I say? Ladies tremble with my every word.”


End file.
